A love letter to the Puma

It is the week of the Puma Reunion, an annual gathering of all those who have served on/with the RAF Puma Force over the 54 years that the aircraft has been in service. We found out this month that it will be the last reunion held while the aircraft is still serving, and I missed it – I was away in Brunei, flying, as it goes.

This is the first blog post that I have written, and I have decided to follow that greatest of journalistic advice and to write about what you know – after nearly 20 years I think that the Puma falls in that category now. I settled on this bright idea while out running, as so often happens the spare time to think allows thoughts to flow through my head and this seemed important enough to commit to writing. Time will tell if it is a good idea or not.

The title might seem odd to many, especially coming from someone who has made a living out of teaching warfare and tactics to a generation of RAF helicopter pilots and instructors, but this moment has been a long time coming and even though it was not unexpected there is a lot that I want to reflect on. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it isn’t the aircraft itself that is uppermost in my mind, but the people – this is really a love letter to the Puma Force. For 20 years they have been my second family – we have worked together, fought together, spent huge amounts of time together in places not on the tourist trail. At one point I had spent more Christmases with some of our crews than I had with my child. We have lived, laughed, loved and lost together and I am a better person as a result of it. I know things about myself that I would never have understood had they not been forced into focus through these experiences and by these people – as a result I have found the courage to pen this “letter”.

I was fortunate to have excellent role-models in my early years on the Force, the sort of people who you were desperate to never let down because their respect meant so much to you. We demanded high standards of ourselves and each other, and while I sometimes fell short we always learned, grew and improved so that the next time was better. Being part of operations where excellence was considered table stakes and we were helping to make the world a better place has left an indelible mark on my character – more recently I have learned to temper the fierceness of my drive for excellence in myself and those I work with, hopefully without compromising my standards. You can drive change, but I have learned the hard way that is not enduring – to build a culture you must take people with you on the journey, and that requires all the different leadership styles rather than just one or two.

I am hoping to use my learnings from over 20 years of operations and instruction on this Force to pass on some wider thoughts that have read-across into business, personal and the social spheres but this first post is not the time. For now I want to reflect on what we have, what I have been a part of, and what I am losing – because even though the people are still there, the community will change. Change is not a bad thing per se, as someone who is part of the innovation community I know this better than many, but there is an inevitable sense of loss that will only intensify as March 2025 approaches.

I decided to take a risk and write as freely as I could, without editing, knowing that this will not be for everyone. As those who have served with me on the Puma can testify, that is a fair reflection of me – honest, direct, not necessarily to everyone’s taste but always with the interests of the wider community at heart. I wonder who this might resonate with, and what new connections might come from it.

I have been incredibly fortunate to have been a part of this group for so long. I look into the next phase of my RAF journey with no small trepidation and I wonder what it will be like, but I know that the skills and confidence that I have gained as a part of this community will allow me to take on the next chapter successfully.